03-03-2006, 06:52 PM
AZAAN: The Call(Poem)Reply
by Kazi Nazrul Islam
Translation: Mohammad Omar Farooq [9/13/99]
When I am preoccupied with nothing in particular, rather with misdeed;
I don't think much, what I was or what I am going to be in future, indeed.
Weaving the net of fascination in the blackboard of my vision,
the fatal desires keep sucking on the young blood with vampire's precision..
Quite knowingly I am moving, with every step I take,
toward the bottom pit that we must avoid for our own sake.
Right then I wake up at the commanding Azan from far,
God is the greatest! Allahu Akbar! Allahu Akbar!
Whether I understand it or not, yet in my heart
a deep feeling of bewilderment keeps me restless and agitated in part.
This call, so special, makes this heart and mind wander,
A sense of loneliness and alienation keeps swirling as I ponder.
The heart only knows the kind of pain it is, I can't put it in word,
Yet a sense of loneliness and alienation that is so mysterious and demurred.
We have to leave this beautiful world to a destination who knows how far,
God is the greatest - listen to that call - Allahu Akbar, Allahu Akbar!
O this bewildering, soul-robbing call, so holy and pure,
mysteriously grabs my devotion, my knee bends unsure..
In my chest I feel the stream of a wild water-cascade,
during the awakening dawn and when the light at the sunset begins to fade.
During the blinding light of midday and the comforting easterly breeze of the afternoon,
Or during the restful night the fragrance, O Azan, you emit - with or without moon.
Just in case, we, the needy earthlings, neglect the work of our Master,
That's why you keep calling to awaken us five times a day, as our life moves faster and faster..
Whenever I fail to respond to even one such call,
My heart agitates in regret and rushes like a waterfall.
You are there, O Azan, so Islam is still awake and alive,
Despite our wave of negligence, it continues to survive and revive..
O pure! O so deep! O so heart-robbing call!
O the Azan, may your trumpet keep us awake, me and all.
Until the trumpet of Israfeel plays the doomday's tune,
O Azan, please continue your hearty call in this world of so much misfortune.
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